


Seeing is Believing

by dasmondschaf



Category: Macross Frontier
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasmondschaf/pseuds/dasmondschaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Alto Saotome has an accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing is Believing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arbitraryspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbitraryspace/gifts).



The first weeks of colony-building were simultaneously less frightening and more tiring than the drama and violence preceding them. Everyone in the convoy was busily engaged in erecting prefabricated buildings, beginning repair on the Islands, and surveying the bright new planet beneath their feet. Sheryl, unfortunately, found herself delayed by science.

It had begun only a few days after landing, when fear of disease began to occupy the medical minds of the Frontier convoy. While no colonist had yet reported signs of infection, they still felt the need to pre-emptively turn to the one known survivor of the disease, the Galactic Nymph who would surely do her part for mankind.

And Sheryl _was_ willing to do her part--but that did not mean she would not sneak off to use her cell phone while hiding amidst a pile of sensitive medical equipment.

"They keep wanting to draw more blood, run more tests, and make me stay in bed--they're afraid of the disease, I guess, but is this _really_ necessary?" This was the same line she had given to everyone she ran into, but she suspected (or hoped, at least) that Alto would be sympathetic.

"I'm surprised you haven't just run off," his voice sounded tinny from the phone's speakers, but his usual far-too-serious tone came through just fine.

"Well," Sheryl continued, "I feel fine, and at least Ranka's stuck with much the same thing. They still can't figure out how she cured me." It felt peculiar to say it like that, especially since she'd been listening to so many scientists tell her how impossible it was.

"Tell them to buzz off," he suggested casually. "You could try doing it nicely, but knowing you, thats not very likel--" Sheryl held the phone away from her ear as his chatter was suddenly overtaken by some very loud crashing noises. Visions of the worst suddenly flashed through her head, and before she knew it her voice was several decibels louder.

"Alto?! Are you okay? Alto!" Nothing but silence. Sheryl Nome sat for a very brief moment in her very medical hiding place, rose to her feet with a sudden cramp in her leg, and then snuck a glance down the hallway and made a run for it.

 

***

It took Sheryl precisely forty-five minutes to reach SMS, only to be greeted with three different versions of how Alto had, in fact, fallen off of a ladder because he was stupid enough to talk to a girl seriously while in a high place surrounded by his much less serious comrades. He exclaimed several times that he was fine, and nobly withstood questions of why he had not called her back to let her know as much. Sheryl joined in the laughter half-heartedly as she waited for Alto's friends to get a clue and leave them alone.

"I did sprain my ankle, you know," Alto stated bluntly, once the room had emptied. "I had to wrap it, and the guys were _not_ very helpful."

"You idiot," Sheryl said, as calmly as she could manage, which was not very. "I can't help being worried, okay? I care about you, you dumbass."

Alto answered by averting his gaze, a tactic that was made even less effective by the complete absence of a window. "It was still just an accident."

Sheryl stared at Alto, displeased at this response. Who was he to make her worry? Why did he never actually visit her in the hospital, just because he was busy building a colony? It wasn't right, and she responded in the most reasonable way she could think of: by touching her hand to his cheek, and kissing him, a pleasure she had not had in far too long. She hoped and prayed that he would not run, or break it off, or demand answers, or really do anything except kiss her back.

Yet despite all Sheryl's intentions, the kiss lasted only a moment before _she_ broke it off, her mind suddenly swimming with feelings she _actually_ couldn't explain. There was anger there, and while she was quite miffed at Alto's stupid handling of his accident, it seemed much bigger than that.

She looked at Alto, who seemed to be nothing short of confused. Everyone was confused. There was only one solution, and Sheryl Nome quietly apologized and ran out the door and toward her own newly constructed townhouse.

***

 

Sheryl made her way home with her hat pulled low over her eyes, ostensibly avoiding the gaze of anyone who might be in the employ of science, but actually just attempting to work her way through what she was now thinking of as The Disastrous Kiss. When she closed her door behind her, she silently made her way to the kitchen table, grabbed at the pile of mail until she had a few blank sheets and a pen, and began to write and hum.

She'd written plenty of music since landing on the Vajra planet, but with the lack of performance venues and recording studios, it would be awhile before the music industry would be back. Everything she wrote these days was more experimental, less flashy, more fun, but this song had a quiet melancholy to it, despite its upbeat sound. It sounded lovesick, and there was nothing to do but get the proper words down on paper for the day when the first recording studio went up.

Sheryl finished writing, and, for lack of anything better to do, turned off her phone and went to sleep.

***

The Vajra days were longer than Earth days by about five hours, a constant cause of consternation and sleep deprivation amongst the colonists. So it was not necessarily noteworthy that Sheryl awoke in darkness to the sound of her doorbell. After only a split-second of hesitation, she pulled on a robe and went to the door, somehow certain it would be a friendly face.

It was Ranka, looking as tiny and harmless as always. She seemed nervous when she spoke, her voice low and contemplative.

"Sheryl? Can I come in?"

"Of course," Sheryl said, attempting to sound friendly and mostly sounding confused. "You're always welcome." She held the door open, and followed Ranka as she headed toward the kitchen, with its piles of papers.

"Do you remember fighting Grace?" Ranka asked, still nervous, pacing about the kitchen restlessly.

"Could I ever forget?" Sheryl sat at the table, expecting Ranka to follow suit, but the other girl kept moving about, eyes wandering until they finally came to rest on the pile of papers. Sheryl looked at them as well: lyrics, bills, doodles, nothing of importance.

"Well, um," Ranka continued, as she stopped pacing to stand still directly in front of Sheryl. "Well, maybe there's a better way to do this."

And then Ranka began to sing. It was a quiet, melancholy song that somehow managed to maintain an upbeat sound. It sounded lovesick, and while it didn't have words, it was unmistakably the exact same song that Sheryl had written after her very confusing visit to Alto.

Ranka finished her song. She had stopped pacing when she began, and now she was looking directly at Sheryl, expectantly, as if Sheryl would _know_ what to say about all this, when it was suddenly abundantly clear that Ranka knew about the kiss, and that Ranka was incredibly lovesick, in her somehow-upbeat way. Sheryl didn't say anything, because what could she say? There was nothing to do but continue to fight on in music, and in love, and--

_You don't have to talk about it, Sheryl,_ Ranka's voice rang in her head.

_This is much weirder when there isn't a raging battle to distract me from it,_ Sheryl thought.

_I know; that's why I was trying to not do it anymore, but... Well, I can always hear the entire Vajra hive, and they're great, but I _also_ hear you. All the time._

Sheryl reeled from this revelation. It made no sense. What, her sickness gave her some sort of telepathy just because it was no longer wrapped around her brainstem? And... did that mean Ranka knew _everything_ about her?

"Yes, it does." Ranka was standing there blushing, clearly embarassed to have invaded Sheryl's innermost space. "You can probably do it too, if you try." Sheryl did not try, and instead continued to stare at Ranka and wonder what else she knew. Eventually, Ranka kept talking, thankfully outside of their heads.

"I... wasn't jealous of you, Sheryl." And then Sheryl felt her own cheeks flush hot, as Ranka swooped in and planted a quick kiss directly on her lips.

"O... Oh," Sheryl said, for a lack of anything else to say. Ranka continued to look at her, and started fidgeting, biting her lip in what appeared to be fairly severe anxiety.

"I'm going back to sleep," she finally said, and turned to go upstairs before she could see what she knew would be a completely crestfallen face.

***

Sheryl could not actually fall asleep again, distracted by the knot in her stomach and the thoughts rushing through her head. Attempting to reconcile what she knew with what had just happened was difficult, and amounted to confusion over two points:

1) Ranka Lee loves Alto Saotome.  
2) Ranka Lee kissed Sheryl Nome.

Then there was the point she really did not want to think about, which was:

3) Ranka Lee can see into Sheryl Nome's head.

Sheryl had barely spent any time with Ranka since her days had been stolen by science. She knew that Ranka was a victim of much the same fate, and that Ranka also had to serve as ambassador to the hive. Still, she never _called_\--but why would she, when she could just pop into Sheryl's head if she wanted?

Then again, she hadn't popped into her head until that evening. It also made Sheryl wonder: was the song a product of Ranka Lee or Sheryl Nome? Clearly, she'd felt Ranka's presence--chiefly her jealousy--when she kissed Alto. What if the new direction of her music was just Ranka Lee's music?

It was all too much to think about, and so, against her better judgement, she took some sinus medication and drifted off to sleep.

***

She dreamed of unity, of community, of peace. She dreamed of sensing things with smell and vibration, of the cultivation of the Earth, of the thrum of fold crystals from the centers of asteroids. She dreamt of flight: not bird flight, but the hovering and constent physical exertion of beating one's wings hundreds of times a second, of hovering.

And then, she dreamt of Ranka.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked despite not being present, in the way of dreams.

"No," Sheryl answered in her dream, surprised to find it was the truth. "You saved my life, once. You make us all happy. But I'm confused."

"The Vajra don't have identities. Humans can't do that, but we can... We can make ourselves known to others. I know everything about you, Sheryl. Would you like to know more about me?"

"Yes," Sheryl said. And then, laid out before her, was a kindness and a strength and an _openness_ that walked the line between human and superhuman. She saw the song she had written, but different, stamped with another's personality and emotions.

Sheryl took a few moments to think, and to remember Ranka, the girl who stole her fame, who fought with her for the affections of a certain pilot, but who also never stopped fighting for all of them, who cared enough to cure her disease, whose songs and heart made everyone's face light up, including Sheryl's. And she saw that Ranka loved Alto, and that Ranka loved Sheryl, and she realized that it was impossible to see so much of a person and to not love them.

And Sheryl nodded, not unhappy, completely speechless, as she reached for Ranka's hand and concentrated on the connection of skin, real and dreamlike all at once.

_OK, Ranka. It's OK,_ she thought, with every fiber of her being.

And she meant it.


End file.
